


Not be repaired

by FF (LuckyPO)



Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Bad English, F/M, Roleswap, Short Chapters, Suicidal Thoughts, Translation, english not my native
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 12:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30072063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuckyPO/pseuds/FF
Summary: He is just a guy who couldn't commit suicide.She is just a demon who regrets the past.A meeting that will definitely change their lives.
Relationships: Beetlejuice & Lydia Deetz
Kudos: 3





	1. Stripped Tie

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Разбитое сердце по осколкам не собрать](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/777297) by Фару-чан. 



> Hi there. 
> 
> I’m so into fandom that I’m not only translating eng fics into Russian, but translating my Russian fic into English. 
> 
> Cause this fandom not really popular at Russian community:(  
> And I want to stick around with other fans, reading fresh fics and share impressions and etc etc
> 
> Buuuut I guess I need to find an editor:))))) as I won’t find one, I will post it as it is. U free to correct me

When even alcohol cannot drown out mental anguish, there is only one way out.

Another bottle just fell out of his trembling fingers and rolled across the floor, pouring out the remnants of cheap beer. Lawrence stared down at his hands. The dull pain went through his whole body. There was only one thought in his head: ‘why?’

The last events were scrolling through his head like a videotape. It all started like in a frickin’ musical. There lived a guy and a girl, and they fell in love at first sight. Dating, cafes, movies, sex, clubs, bubbly champagne and the sweet smell of light female cigarettes. And it all ended as in the real life. Woke up left, humiliated, broken...

The eyes burned as hell, but there were no more tears left. The whole world has shrunk to a small, damp room. All thoughts were occupied with regrets and grief.

It all was driving him crazy. 

The complete mess in the room seemed to reflect the mental state of its owner. His eye involuntarily caught a lonely tie in a heap of clothes that had not been washed in ages, giving birth to a new swarm of obsessive thoughts. ‘Let's do it’. ‘Well, what's stopping you.’ ‘Do you have anything to live for?’

The pistol would be more reliable, but he hadn’t it. The pills are probably less hurt. But they, damn it, are not in this godforsaken place either. A razor ... Lawrence knew where it was, even though he hadn't used it for almost a week. But the tie ... for some reason he wanted to put an end to his life with this stupid striped tie. A stupid death for a stupid life. 

For the first time in a long time, his head cleared up. On shaking legs he got up and went to the bathroom. He washed his face. He looked at hisself in the mirror. The reflection did not evoke any pleasant associations - red sunken eyes, tousled greasy hair, unshaven stubble, greenish skin. This corpse hardly resembled the guy who rented this apartment with fire in his eyes almost month ago. A wave of regret again covered him headlong, but only to strengthen his decision.

Lawrence put on his tie mechanically. It remains only to stand on a stool, tie the lower edge to the hook on which the chandelier hangs, and jump. If he’d be lucky, the spine will break and death will be quick. Otherwise, death by strangulation ... very unpleasant, as they say.

He put one foot on a stool and stopped. He sighed. This is the end. He tried to stand on a chair, but his vision defocused, the whole world spun in front of his eyes. With gagging urges, the booze began to break out of his stomach. Bath was too far, so he rushed to the balcony.

He vomited and then lay down on the tiles face up, exhausted. The sky above him was so saturated, the piecing light of gull moon was bright as spotlight, and stars strewn the sky like a scattering of small pearls. He barely had enough strength to move his pupils, and yet he involuntarily exhaled:

“And why, on the night of my death, the sky is so damn beautiful ...”

“Just ordinary sky. Except it’s cloudless tonight. You, breathers, love to dramatize everything”.

The voice sounded as if from nowhere. Lawrence, gathering all his strength, sat and looked around.

The owner of this voice suddenly appeared right in front of him, he shuddered all over. A young girl, almost still a child, dressed in all black, looked at him.

“You see me?” Lawrence thought her voice wavered slightly.

“If you are not the creation of my brain, which drove from booze and drugs to the end, then yes”, the fresh air gradually took its toll, giving him new strength.

“Oh, so that's why you see me! This explains a lot ... “ she pulled thoughtfully, but then, catching herself, looked Lawrence in the eyes again, “Okay old man, would you like to try and guess my name? If you say it three times, then I will fulfill any of your wishes”. What a bullshit. 

“Hey, I’m not an old man, kid, I'm only thirty!”

“Oh, ok,” she spoke indifferently, “then you are very badly preserved. You know, your liver will fail soon and you will die early”. 

“Don’t get into my soul!” this chick was already beginning to irritate him. “I might really want to die! And the faster the better”.

Her face changed. Her facial features seemed to have become harder, rougher. A steel gleam flashed in her eyes.

“Yeah, you are not old, you are still a child! Do you want to die? Do you think this will solve all your problems? Do you think you can put a broken heart back together?” her voice became quiet, almost turning into a whisper. Lawrence even felt a little ashamed that he had yelled at her.

"You ..." He was about to say something, but suddenly his stomach twisted again from convulsions.

He stood on the balcony for a long time, vomiting only bile. When he was finally released, the sky was already beginning to turn purple, and the night visitor was no longer on the balcony. Tired, he thoughtlessly wandered over to the bed, undoing his tie along the way. Lawrence threw it onto the chair, fell on the bed and instantly fell asleep.

On this day, the tie was not used.


	2. Deal

He woke up in the afternoon. His head was splitting, but he was getting used to it. Still half-conscious, he wandered into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and immediately winced at the nasty smell of spoiled food. He took out a bottle, sharply scribbled its neck on the chipped edge of the table. The lid, having made several somersaults in the air, landed dully in a pile of debris.

Lawrence sat down on the couch and took a sip of beer, still finding himself in prostration.

“Yeah, you definitely love to sleep,” a mocking girlish voice sounded right above his ear.

It was so unexpected that the bottle fell out of his hands, releasing a fountain of foaming liquid throughout the apartment. Lawrence swore loudly, and turned his head sharply.

“What the hell are you doing at my house?” he bristled.

The girl gracefully jumped off the back of the couch. In the light of a day, he could see her much better. Short wavy hair, twisted lace everywhere - on veils, gloves, dress, stockings. And everything is mournful black.

“I am a ghost. I can be wherever I want to be”, shadow of a smile appeared on her face, “Usually, breathers do not notice me”.

“Perhaps, if you had at least a little sense of taste at choosing clothes it might’ve changed”.

She laughed loudly, “I’m telling him that I am a ghost, and he is not only not afraid, but also criticizes my outfit ..! I haven't had that much fun in years! Oh, I'm so glad that it is you with whom I could speak–!”

Lawrence continued to look at her expectantly until she stopped laughing. She did not looked like a ghost. Except for the marbled white skin, but it even suited her.

‘If any of us looks like a zombie, it’s me,’ thought Lawrence.

“Hey,” she said suddenly, “you said yesterday that you wanted to die as soon as possible. Can you tell me what happened to you?”

He gave her a quick heavy glance. She didn't look sympathetic at all.

“You know,” she continued, “in honor of our acquaintance, I could help you. Solve, so to speak, your problem”.

“I do not need your help” his voice sounded unnaturally raspy, he cleared his throat, and only then continued, “I do not need anything”.

The girl muttered something under her breath, unintelligible and obviously abusive.

“Well then, can YOU help me in honor of our acquaintance? Say my name three times, for example?” there were notes of despair in her calm voice, “Don't make me beg you! ... okay, I beg you!”

She collapsed to the floor in front of him, looking into his eyes like a puppy. The awkward scene nearly made Lawrence choked on his own saliva. He immediately moved to the other end of the couch.

“Go home,” he said, “And I will complete what I have already decided”. He got up and, trying not to look at his new acquaintance, went to the chair where his tie still hung alone.

She instantly understood the train of his thoughts and in two leaps was next to him. “Hey, don’t do this”, she hung on his arm. Her fingers were shocking cold, tenacious and seemingly weightless.

“Why?”

“Let me try to guess what would make you want to commit suicide…” she completely ignored his words, “Blink if I guess! Let me see ... Debts? No? Okay ... Kicked out of work? Also no ... Problems with your family? Your mother died, and your father passed you to an orphanage, just so that you do not remind him of his ex-wife, and then a couple of years later you meet him on the street with a new young wife with babies, and passing by he recognizes you, and when the new wife asks "who is she?" he replies "I don't know, this the first time I see her" and you feel such an emotional intensity that it seems that there is no point in continuing your live?”

“Wow ... very specific”.

“ Also not, then ... Then, broke out? Oh, your face has changed, so I'm right! But she didn't just quit ... Was she a fraud? Played love while emptying your pockets along the way?”

“That slut–”

“You probably even proposed to her. Or not in time?”

Lawrence slammed the coffee table with all his might. Shards of glass splashed in all directions, miraculously missing Lawrence. He, still blazing with rage, looked down at his bloody hand. Scarlet streams ran down, lost in the sleeve of his white shirt. For a second, he imagined how he was strangling this bitch, which he once loved, with this very hand. For the first time in a long time, he felt a pleasant warmth in his chest. Did he really want her dead so badly? This sudden realization did not even frighten him, but ... reassured him?

He suddenly realized that he didn’t want to die. Certainly not yet this bitch enjoys life, whipping up a new daddy, which until recently he was himself. A wild, animal laugh escaped his alcohol-dried throat like the croak of a crow. The ghost just looked at him from under half-closed eyelids.

“You’re a ghost, you say,” a plan ripened in his head. A plan for a sweet, very sweet revenge.

“The demon, to be more specific”.

“And you will grant my wish if I say your name three times?”

“I will do anything . Unless it's marriage, you're not my type. No offenses”.

He had never laughed like that before. He suddenly felt so easy, so good. It was as if the chains that were strangling him disappeared at once. Hell yeah, it’s show time, baby. 

He glanced at the black-haired girl. She looked back at him with genuine interest. Lawrence grinned.

“So, what's your name?”


End file.
